


What Do You Remember?

by ShippedMyPants



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Afterlife, But Not Much, Dean's Death, Death, Gen, Heaven, Implied Castiel/Dean Winchester, Prompt Fic, after a long life, stories
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-28
Updated: 2014-03-28
Packaged: 2018-01-17 07:44:29
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,093
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1379542
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ShippedMyPants/pseuds/ShippedMyPants
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After a long life, Death comes to collect Dean personally. Dean only has one question and its not the one Death expected.</p>
            </blockquote>





	What Do You Remember?

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [All the stories Death could tell](https://archiveofourown.org/external_works/42286) by samsupernal. 



> This was based off of the post on Tumblr from samsupernal: "No but imagine all the stories Death could tell. Imagine someone meeting Death at last and just being quiet and saying 'Before I go, can I ask you a question?' And Death is all annoyed because he's infinity and darkness and full of sorrows and he's expecting the regular 'What comes after' but the question stuns him.  
> 'What do you remember?'"

Finally, it was Dean’s time.

Death always knew that, before, Dean’s end was not something to last. It was a teaching tool; a lesson that Dean or Sam had to learn that could only be taught through his untimely demise.

But today was the day.

Dean died at the old age of 68; young for the average male, but ancient in the eyes of a hunter.

Dean’s life had been mostly quiet after he, Sam, and Castiel put an end to Metatron and Abbadon’s evils. Crowley stayed King of Hell, but he was manageable. Dean was anxious for a while, itching to get back to fighting monsters and demons, but a few months of little to no work allowed him to see that it would be alright to try and settle into a new version of life. One where he lived.

Decades passed that were filled with family and love, with the help of Cas staying by his side as his friend, then lover, and finally, husband. Their daughter Mary Johanna went on to be a hunter as was the old Winchester way, but their son John Gabriel, became a mechanic and took over his father’s auto shop, helping with research when the need arose.

Death knew Dean would be arriving soon, passing in his sleep, wrapped in the arms of the angel who would always be by his side.

The ancient being set up the last of the food and then looked out over the water waiting patiently for the footsteps on the dock to approach him.

“What’s going on? What’s wrong?”

Death smiled and turned to the young man behind him. Dean was just how he remembered him at the peak of his youth.

“Nothing is wrong. It is simply time.”

Dean stared for a moment, trying to comprehend until it finally clicked.

“So, no reaper for me? I get Death himself.”

“For you, Dean Winchester, it seemed only right.”

“What’s all this then?” Dean gestured to the picnic at the end of the dock on the lake he hadn't visited since before the apocalypse.

“A farewell of sorts. I do not often collect souls, and when I do, it is only for those I consider a friend.”  
“A _friend?_ ” Dean balked.

“Yes, Dean. There were very few people in this reality, let alone on Earth, that I took an interest in. So come, sit. There are chili dogs, deep fried pickles from the same place you got them to try and bribe me, cheese burgers, Chicago deep dish, fries, and pie from the mom and pop diner that you loved as a child. I figured a last meal and good company would be the sendoff you would appreciate the most.”

Dean walked closer and eyed the mountains of food. “Is it real or just some sort of magic spirit mumbo that will look and taste like the real deal?”

Death sighed, “It is all real and directly from Earth. You as a soul will not get full, but it is real I assure you.”

Dean grinned and sat down, pulling a few burgers and a slice of pizza on his plate.

“So what do we talk about?”

“That is up to you. I assume you have some questions, most deceased humans do.” Death prepared his answer to _‘What’s the meaning of life?’_ or whatever Dean’s creative variation would be as the man chewed his burger mulling over what he had said.

“What do you remember?”

Death stared and then blinked, taken off guard. No one asked about him. Humans were naturally selfish, some more than others, but they never failed to look for answers about their own lives.

“Come again?”

“Come on! You say you ‘like very few people in this reality’ so obviously there are more. What’re they like?”

“Usually, I am asked something along the lines of ‘what was the meaning of my life’…”

The young looking man snorted with a mouth full of pepperoni and cheese, “I’ve been told what my life was for and what it ‘meant’ from day one, and frankly, I’m tired of it. Now I want to know, what do you remember?”

“Everything.”

“How?”

 So Death told his story.

It was compacted and missing a few parts that were beyond the human’s realm of comprehension, but it was his life from creation to present and into the future; time is not linear for the being that is Death.

For Dean’s benefit, this other worldly being told his friend what was in store for his descendants back in the element of the living, but didn’t give away the whole story so Dean could watch and be surprised for himself. But no more monumental trials would be placed before the Winchester lineage.

Eventually, the food was gone and it was time.

“So how do I get to the pearly gates anyway?”

“This place is partly of your creation, Dean. How do you see yourself leaving?”

The roar of an engine starting up came from behind them. Baby was at the end of the dock, ready to take him on. Dean looked at her and smiled but then hesitated. The engine cut.

“Highway to Hell and Stairway to Heaven, right? Not sure if I want to take that chance.” Dean turned toward the end of the dock where the water was starting to bubble.

A step rose to meet the end of the wooden dock. Shining silver railings rose to its side, matching the first step which was quickly being followed by more until it grew to hundreds of feet above the two standing on the dock. At the top of the stairs, what looked to be a cloud formed. Led Zepplin’s _Stairway to Heaven_ started playing softly from somewhere, or maybe everywhere.

Death chuckled, “You always did have a bit of flair in you.” He placed a hand on Dean’s shoulder. “Now, go on. I have kept you long enough, they're waiting for you.”

Dean turned to look him in the eye, “Thank you.”

“No, thank you Dean.”

The man nodded and with a deep breath, began to climb the stairs.

It didn't take as long to reach the top as he had imagined, and when he finally arrived to the cloud, he stepped on to it without hesitation because he saw his Heaven beyond pearly gates. He ran forward and fell into the arm of his angel, embracing and kissing him before pulling back to see his loved ones who arrived before him waiting just further in.

In his ear Castiel whispered, “Welcome home.”


End file.
